Fireteam Imperial
by Petty Officer First Class Boo
Summary: The Angel of Death has returned from his sleep to lead a newly formed Spartan Fireteam. Performing missions alongside Fireteam Crimson on Requiem, will the Angel of Death still be cursed or will he be released from his life long affliction?
1. Prologue: Angel of Death

Fireteam Imperial

_The egg slammed into the asteroid's ground with a solid smack. Metal pinged as the sharp tip of the drop pod dug into the space rock. Krieger heard the hatch hiss before exploding open. With weapon in hand, the giant Spartan leaped from the pod and was the first one on the battlefield. The hissing and buzzing of Covenant weaponry whistled in the open battlefield. They had landed in the wrong zone, the wrong place and at the wrong time._

"_Master Sergeant!" one of Krieger's men screamed in his ear, "we're sixteen klicks from the LZ!"_

"_We're too far inland and too close to the target for the 105__th__ to meet up with us!" another one screamed._

"_Then follow me," Krieger ordered, "we're going to carve ourselves a path."_

_ The report of human weaponry echoed in the plain, the Spartans and ODSTs fighting alongside each other only having enough air for three hours at the most. This operation was meant to be a blow through op and the 66__th__ Shock Troops Battalion were the first few in and the last out._

"_Roland, McDonald, Jeffers," Krieger said, "take up positions near the right flank and hold it."_

"_Yes Sarge!"_

"_Samuel, Jones, Ripley," Krieger ordered, the Spartan popping up to fire a few shots at the well fortified Covenant, "left flank."_

"_You got it, Top!"_

"_You two," Krieger pointed to the ODSTs closest to him, "on me."_

"_Roger that, Angel of Death."_

_ Angel of Death, he liked that. It had a certain ring to it that resonated with the inner beast. Krieger hopped over a low rock he was taking cover behind. The two ODSTs took up positions behind the walking tank. He would act as the shield and the two being swords. Ahead of the trio were lines of defenses, plasma turrets sprouting purple fire and Jackal snipers firing beams of bright green. Chances of surviving were close to zero, but that was why they were here. The 66__th__ Shock Troops Battalion was here to slap Death in the face and prevail._

"_Incoming!"_

_ Krieger looked up to see an arcing ball of bright, blue plasma ascending down upon his small formation. He plucked a small grenade from his belt. With a small press of a button, a bubble shield exploded from the grenade. The hexagonal shields exploded with a bright blue light, it's underpowered shield giving under the stress of the enormous power it had to keep out. Shields fizzled with heated plasma as the trio moved on. Blobs of green impacted one of the ODSTs. _

_The Marine staggered, plates of ceramic and titanium boiling under extreme heat. Krieger paused. He drew his M6 and fired in his right hand. In his left, was the age old and tested MA5B firing on full automatic in bursts. It was hard to manage two weapons firing at one, at different rates, at different targets and recoiling differently. Krieger had to make it work. He had to try at least to get them all out alive._

_The Marine got up. His chest armor melted into his Battle Dress Uniform underneath. Burns sent pain up his body like a never-ending torrent of agony. Like many in the battalion, he was one without spouse, without children, the things he loved being killed by the Covenant before he could really cherish them. These ODSTs were going to fight to the death._

_His legs were sagging, his arms were tired, and he didn't want to fight anymore. The M7S Silenced Sub Machine Gun in his hand weighed a ton compared to its normal mere one-kilogram weight. The ODST looked up, his bluish visor catching the Spartan's standard green battle scarred armor. Plasma bolts turned into vapor as it smashed into his, it's, shields, the ODST didn't care anymore. The Spartan was fighting for him and the Spartan expected the ODST to carry out his duty until death had parted him and returned him to his family._

_That was exactly what he was going to do._

"_You alright Helljumper?" Krieger asked the injured ODST._

"_Yes Sergeant," he wheezed with confidence, "I'm alright. Let's keep moving."_

"_Then let's go," Krieger ordered and stepped forward._

_ Step by step, feet by feet, inch by inch, Krieger kept going until his shields depleted. That's when the plasma bolts started to hurt him. They were just a couple of feet from a ditch they could use to form a World War One style battle line. Green flashes of light and purple spots of heat exploded around him. Krieger could feel the Mjolnir titanium boiling underneath the heat. The suit didn't have long before it melted his bodysuit._

"_We're going to make a sprint for the ditch," Krieger said, "can you keep up?"_

"_Yes," the one to his left said boldly._

"_I don't think I can," the one to his right said in a sorrowful tone, "what I will buy you two is some time. Make sure the rest get to you."_

"_Are you sure about this?" Krieger asked, turning his back so the other plasma bolts would boil on a new plate._

"_Yes Sergeant, I'm sure."_

"_Then good luck to you Helljumper," Krieger nodded in a silent respect of the smaller Marine, "we'll see you on the other side."_

"_Roger that."_

_ Krieger started to run towards the ditch, deliberately slowing down to help the ODST keep up. He looked over his shoulder. The ODST lifted his M7S in defiance, the Marine was sending a message to the Covenant. 'You don't scare me,' his body language said. A burst or two erupted from the silencer of the weapon before heated plasma slammed into his left leg. _

_One pained howl soared above the battle. It was lonely, in pain, but determined. The soldier kept firing. On one leg, another bolt slammed into his chest. Pain was no more. There was so much, he was overloaded with pain to the point of numbness sparking across his body. He felt like he was made of rubber. The ODST was on the ground, air leaking from the breaches in his armor. White steam hissing from the failing seals. One more try, he thought. He dug his fist into the asteroid's unforgiving ground and stood up. His left leg a mere clutch as he took aim at Covenant turret firing purple bolts at the Spartan. His index finger curled around the trigger._

_A single beam of bright purple light, thin and intense crossed the length of the battlefield._

_ The ODST fell backwards into the ground. Air was sucked into a vacuum along with bluish glass. One single clean hole was in between the Marine's peaceful green eyes as he stared into the emptiness of space. Limp, his hand let the M7S float in space. The barrel pointed at the ODST's breastplate. Chestnut hair and brown eyes stared at a small girl, the bottom half of the photograph burnt off by extreme heat._

_The ODST was going home._


	2. Chapter 1: Revival of an Angel

Fireteam Imperial

'Spartans never die, they only go missing.' That rang true for the body lying inside the cryostasis pod. Frozen midway though the Covenant – Human War, Spartan-424 Krieger was flash frozen as his ship, UNSC _Lazarus_, had warped into slipspace. After they had appeared on the other side, a Covenant fleet had detected the damaged ship and destroyed the stealth corvette. Or so they believed.

Krieger-424 floated in the darkness of space with the running power plants fueling his cryo pod until the Covenant – Human War had ended. During the late 2557s, a patrolling fleet discovered the floating wreck near Sigma Octanus IV. To the amazement of the crew, they retrieved the cryo pod and immediately sent it back to Earth for immediate thawing.

Floating in the darkness, memories immerged from his childhood. Something flashed in the darkness. The scent of fresh dirt and leaves filling every rise and fall of his breath. Krieger was still as animals and insects chirping and rustling the shrubs around him. Crouched behind the trunk of a tree and shielded by darkness, he waited for the command. Part of White Team, Krieger was their marksman. White Team was one of four Spartan teams dueling it out for food in the forests of XF-431, nicknamed Water World by the recruits.

_The sound of a branch snapping drew Krieger's hazel eyes to a large bush just a couple of feet in front of him. With his MA5B raised, the recruit stepped out from the tree's shadow to investigate. The rustling stopped. His grip tightened on the rifle. Gunfire exploded in his ears. Something hard knocked him into the ground. Krieger found that he was unable to move._

_He had been shot._

_ Training paint hardened on the recruit's chest armor as the aggressors revealed themselves. Red Team, White Team's rival and enemy. They laughed at the lone soldier, Krieger being the last of his team before they moved on. That night, they ate like kings while White Team didn't get a single scrap of food._

And that was the last time Krieger was ever shot.

White light blinded the Spartan as pain shot through his body. Itching started to irritate him. It was cold. Damn cold, but heat started to warm the raw skin of the soldier. Krieger realized what was happening. He was being thawed. It was time to take the fight back to the Covenant. Frost retreated from the glass as heat assaulted the cryostasis chamber. With the process complete, the hatch hissed open.

"Well," Krieger heard a male voice, a coward by the sound of it, "we're not sure if the Spartan knows what time he's currently in. It looks like a trend we're finding."

Krieger's armored hand grabbed the frame of the pod and pulled himself out. The armored soldier rose to his full height, towering above everyone. It felt annoying at first to look down at people and talk. At this point, he was used to it.

"What do you mean it's a trend you're finding?" Krieger asked, his baritone voice echoing throughout the room.

"I, uh," the voice came from a small scientist standing beside the console.

"It's just because of finding the Master Chief floating around in space that's all," another voice interjected, this time it was female.

"And you are?" Krieger asked.

The Spartan walked forward and surveyed the room. He realized that he was in a room surrounded by two-way mirrors. Was he seriously being interrogated? Krieger turned around to see a smaller woman in what looked like white Spartan armor. It was more technologically advanced than his by the looks of it.

"Commander Sarah Palmer," the female introduced herself, "UNSC _Infinity_ Spartan Detachment Commander."

"Why are you here? We have Covenant to worry about," Krieger growled. Whatever batch of Spartan she was, she should be at the frontlines fighting Covenants, not interrogating him.

"Do you know what year it is Master Sergeant?" she asked. Of course he knew. It was 2553. He was just on an operation with a battalion of ODSTs to dismantle a Covenant shipbuilding depot based on an asteroid.

"2553. What kind of stupid question are you asking me?" Krieger shot back.

He walked up to the two-way mirror. Krieger surveyed his armor, JFO helmet with a long scratch across the left side of the midnight black visor. His chest armor had scorch marks from multiple plasma hits and too many scratches to count. The Commando pauldron on his left arm was chipped at the upper edges.

Krieger snorted. The armor had seen better days.

"Wrong answer Master Sergeant," Palmer replied, "it's 2558."

"You've got to be kidding me," Krieger scoffed. Was he being pranked? Surely not.

If he wanted to find out, he was going to have to do it the hard way.

Krieger withdrew his right fist and smashed it straight through the two-way mirror. Glass and metal shattered, even shields couldn't protect them from his fists. Frightened military officers and civilian personnel screamed in fear as Krieger slid over the consoles. Security personnel ran to contain the situation. They opened fire at the walking tank, only to have their bullets nullified by his shields.

"Same old weaponry," Krieger said.

Despite all the ruckus going on, Krieger was bothered by one thing. There was a horrible chaffing going on in his loins. You had to hate the cryostasis chamber. Blisters popped, raw skin rubbing against the undersuit of the armor, it was irritating to say the least. Krieger walked out into the corridor, the small portholes showing him all that he needed to see. It was a blue, round planet with water glimmering below the ship in orbit. He let a single breath escape his mouth.

"Well, would you look at that," Krieger said with a small smile under his helmet.

"Do you Spartan IIs always disobey orders like this?" Krieger heard Palmer's voice from behind him.

"Depends," Krieger turned around and crossed his arms, "if I respect you or not."

"You're going to be reassigned Master Sergeant. Reassigned to Fireteam Imperial," Palmer chuckled, "I hope you can whip them into shape."

"You hope?" Krieger asked.

"Yeah," Palmer said, walking away.

"Oh," she said, turning around, "I thought you were taller."

"If I was," Krieger said after her, "I'd be a fucking giant."


	3. Chapter 2: Aegis of Angels

Fireteam Imperial

Much like the aircraft carriers of the 21st Century, Krieger just realized he stepped into one of its many hangars. Powerful lights shone down on the deck below, the deck itself being brushed titanium, reflected the lights. Rows of troopships were sitting dormant with it's own crew doing maintenance on the birds.

Apparently, the old Pelicans were replaced. Krieger missed the angular cockpits that he sat in, one too many times. The rectangular boxes were replaced with twin bubble canopies along with its smoother body compared to its predecessor's bulky shape. In turn, this evolution was better armed than the previous. More firepower was always a good thing.

Krieger walked down the rows of DC79-TC Pelicans. He had the unusual honor of being escorted by, no other than Commander Sarah Palmer. Where was the old Spartan family that he used to love and fight with? They were replaced with less than satisfactory kids. Only 25 of 90 survived in the Spartan II Class II batch and now they had hundreds, it spat on tradition and training Krieger had grown fond of.

Commander Palmer stopped at an empty spot in the hangar bay. Above them, energy shields kept the oxygen and air inside the ship. A single shape phased through the shields as powerful engines blew hot air from blue flames. It's maneuvering thrusters flared, the giant ship gliding down to land. With a gust of hot air, the Pelican touched down. The ramp lowered to reveal four Spartans in bodysuits. Why they would ever take off their armor was beyond Krieger. He felt much safer with it on. The four stepped off the Pelican and stood in a line in front of Commander Palmer.

One of the two females, with chestnut colored hair and amber eyes, saluted Commander Palmer.

"Spartan Claire Summers reporting for duty ma'am," she reported in a crisp and clear voice, one that belonged to an officer.

"At ease Spartan Summers," Commander Palmer replied, "I'm here to introduce you to your new teammate."

Commander Palmer turned to the Spartan in outdated armor next to her, "This is Master Sergeant Krieger. He is a Spartan II Generation 2. Krieger will be attached to you as a fireteam marksman. Play nice Imperial."

"Yes ma'am," Spartan Summers snapped a salute before turning to face Krieger.

"Welcome to the fireteam Krieger," Spartan Summers said as Krieger nodded, his body suit squeaking as he did, "Now there is only one rule in this fireteam. What I say goes is that clear?"

She seemed like a new player to the game, interesting.

"Yes ma'am," Krieger said in a monotone.

Krieger heard Commander Palmer chuckle.

"Well.." she began, "Looks like you two will get along just fine. Have fun," she said with fake enthusiasm and patted him on the shoulder before starting off.

"Fall in line Krieger," Summers ordered.

"You heard her," Palmer yelled, not even bothering to stop or turn around.

Krieger complied and stood next to one of the males of the fireteam. He was at least a head or two taller than everyone. Not just taller, bulkier also. Krieger watched as Spartan Summers marched up and down their ranks. She looked at everyone in the eyes. He noticed she lingered on the other female a bit longer than necessary. Then, she stopped at him. Krieger stared down at Summers from behind the pitched black visor. She looked away and walked back to the center of the group.

"Alright Fireteam Imperial," she raised her voice over the commotion of the hangar, "we're going to get to S Deck to get our armor fitted. Or refitted. Then we'll meet in the holodeck for team practice. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," everyone except Krieger said.

"I said, is everything clear?" Summers asked Krieger, her face centimeters away from his helmet.

Krieger looked down, his bodysuit squeaking from his movement. There was a momentary pause as Krieger stared at her eyes. His silver, augmented irises locked with her amber ones.

"Yes ma'am," he replied in a stern, monotone.

He already disliked this squad leader.

"Alright," she said and backed off, "dismissed."

Krieger updated his VISR (Visual Intelligence System, Reconnaissance) to guide him to S Deck. As much as he'd like to explore the ship, this one was different. It was the size of a larger Covenant assault carrier. Krieger barely remembered the last time he was outside the armor. The suit became a second skin as he took the fight to the Covenant. He breathed, lived and fought inside the suit. He noticed the three other from the squad walking behind him and struggled to keep up. One in particular, caught up alongside him.

"Master Sergeant Krieger?" the man asked in a deep Baritone.

"Yes?" Krieger replied.

"Spartan Marcus Greene," the Spartan introduced himself, "former ODST Force Recon. I was wondering, are you the angel of death the operated with the 66th?"

"I am."

Krieger's reply was short and to the point. He wasn't trying to be famous, he wasn't trying to be friendly, he was a soldier used in battle to kill. The four stepped into the large elevator, ascending upwards and towards S Deck. It hummed silently as an awkward silence settled upon the new squad.

"What do you think is under that helmet?" he heard the other male ask Marcus.

"I don't know," Marcus whispered back.

"You know he can hear you right?" the other female replied in an accented voice. Was it a slight tinge of German that he heard?

The other male Spartan's head snapped to Krieger's impassive visor.

"Sorry, Master Sergeant." He replied just as the elevator clanked to a halt.

The Titanium-A3 doors sliding open to reveal a well-lit room. Rows upon rows and deck upon decks of MJOLNIR GEN2 gyroscope assemblers lined either side of the armor assembling S Deck. The bustling of the entire room comes to a stop as Krieger walked down the long hall. Spartan-IVs stopped what they were doing to watch their predecessor walk into one of the free assemblers staffed by technicians. Krieger summarized that he was too tall to fit in the gyroscope. He turned around and raised his arms.

Spartan Summers, outfitted in her mix of GEN2 Recon head and chest along with Wetworks shoulders, stepped in front of the deck to watch. Technicians began to manually handle the machines. Assembly tools were pushed into his arm plates. With a satisfying whirl, the arm plates dropped to the floor with a clatter. The machines then de-bolted his chest plate. Being much heavier than the GEN2 armor, the plates dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Slowly, piece-by-piece, his armor came off. The weight and the feeling of enclosure now gone, Krieger felt naked. The drills were de-bolting his helmet. With a final tug, Krieger's head was finally exposed to the outside world, in what was, a long time.

Krieger's silver eyes saw Spartan Summers's eyebrow arch in interest. Stepping out of the armor's shoes, the technicians began working on his bodysuit. The titanium undersuit came off easily. Just like clothing, it dropped to the floor. Except, it impacted the floor with a dull thud. Krieger's skin was as pale as can be. In some places were veins running to and from limbs, others were chalked full of augmentation scars. Long lines of deep red ran from his index and pinky knuckles, circling them and up his forearm. One big scar ran down his spine while two others ran along his collar bones. It looked like he had been part of one big giant experiment.

"I've never seen a Spartan II half naked before," one of the many female Spartan IVs whistled, as Krieger's face was stoic.

"We'll have to change your bodysuit the GEN2s. The Mark V undersuits aren't compatible with the newer armor. But, the GEN2 bodysuit will be backwards compatible. The only problem is, you're so much bigger than the Chief and even with him, we had to manually remove and attach armor."

"Just do it," Krieger said.

"O…kay," the scientist murmured before darting off to find Krieger an undersuit.

Krieger got the largest size possible. Even then, the armor was constricting his larger than normal muscles. Spartan IIs were not meant to be slim and agile, they were built like tanks. Krieger was put back on the platform as the technicians got to work on refitting him with GEN2 armor. Armor parts hovered over their designated body parts. Krieger stood with his arms raised as the armor was placed onto his undersuit.

"LOCUS helmet, Warrior Chest," the scientist spoke as he supervised the process.

Krieger felt the helmet drop over his head. All he saw was darkness, pitch black and solitary. Something clamped over his torso and hips. His feet were enclosed in what felt like a very thick sock and like gloves, his hands were wrapped in, what he knew was, Titanium-A3 gauntlets. Sound was muffled before the suit powered up. Krieger let his hands down as he felt them enclosed in armor.

"Contoured arms and legs along with VISR 4.09 for maximized next-gen asymmetric warfare operability."

Krieger stepped out from the raised platform. His helmet was in the shape and likeness of a skull, while the other features of his suit were mainly focused on speed and agility. It felt light on Krieger's body, but it also felt tighter on him. He surmised that it was the tight fitting bodysuit and not the armor. The Spartan II looked at his hands, turning them over and clenching them into a fist.

It felt good to have an upgrade.

"Orders are to give you a black bodysuit and black armor with white markings," the scientist mused, his eyes looking up and down Krieger's body, "doesn't that fit your motif?"

"Angel of Death."

Krieger simply nodded and walked out from the assembly station. He stopped short of Spartan Summers. Despite the streamlining of the armor and its evolution into a lightweight kit, Krieger still stood taller than any of the augmented Spartan IVs. His size dwarfed hers. He looked up to see the other Spartans going back to their own business. The commotion was over and another Spartan II had come home.

"You were the second person," Commander Palmer said, walking towards him, "after Master Chief to cause a commotion big enough on S Deck."

Krieger said nothing.

"Prepare for slipspace jump to Requiem," the PA system blared.

"If you will excuse me," she said and walked into the assembly station Krieger was previously occupying, "I have to go dress up for a party."


End file.
